


Interlude:  Exeunt, Pursued By a Bear

by esteefee



Series: Doors [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poor Rodney finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude:  Exeunt, Pursued By a Bear

Sheppard is being an ass, and there's no reason for it, Rodney thinks. No reason at all. But on their first mission after Rodney's return from Earth, it becomes apparent Sheppard hasn't forgiven him for...the thing he's not forgiving him for.

Yes, of course, Rodney was very busy when he got back, and he hasn't been spending much time with Sheppard or the rest of the team. It's not like a man of his importance can simply disappear for five weeks without there being serious, even cataclysmic, repercussions in his labs. He has a responsibility to science to put right the terrible ineptitudes that were made manifest in his absence.

But there is a distinct chill emanating from the Colonel's quadrant when they go on their mission. Toward Rodney alone, that is—Teyla and Ronon, are treated to the usual, laid-back warmth that is Sheppard's trademark. Sheppard, who usually trumpets a hands-off message, even lets Ronon touch the sacred _hair_ , for God's sake.

But Rodney he treats like he's invisible.

It's infuriating, but just as Rodney is building up a good head of steam about it, Sheppard chooses to have a near-fatal reaction to the very compound they are on the planet to acquire in trade.

Infuriating, infuriating man.

Their hastily constructed substitute team completes the mission and goes back to Atlantis. After Woolsey debriefs them, Rodney returns to the lab, where he shortly pinpoints two fatally infinite loops in Wilkerson's programming and has to tear the man a new asshole just to make a point.

Rodney then calls the infirmary to make sure Sheppard really is okay.

After that, there's Zelenka to bait, and Johnston to sear over the coals of sarcasm, and when the corpses have been cleared away he is finally left alone to work on the recombinant power equations the mission had pulled him away from. So, it's late—or early, rather—when he grudgingly decides to go to the infirmary to check in on Sheppard personally.

It occurs to Rodney in the transporter that it's possible things will still be awkward and ugly between them. Maybe he won't go. After all, Rodney is talented at many things, but no one has ever accused him of the sensitive handling of emotionally-charged situations, and right now Sheppard is sick to boot.

On the other hand, Rodney has fallen victim to deadly allergic reactions himself often enough that he knows by now Sheppard will be recovered from the epinephrine-induced headache and body pains that accompany the cure. He'll also be bored out of his mind, and probably grateful for a little distraction.

So, really, it's a perfect time to visit.

:::

In the infirmary, Rodney is disappointed to discover Jennifer has already left for the evening. The late shift is on, and although Dr. Cruetch is a decent physician—he was able enough to treat Rodney's Galaxy-lag the other day with some nice sleeping pills—Rodney had been hoping Jennifer would be there to give him a heads up on Sheppard's condition so he can decide whether this really is a good time to visit. Cruetch, however, has a thing about patient confidentiality and isn't helpful; he simply waves Rodney in with the admonishment that he's not to 'tire his patient.'

When Rodney walks back into the treatment area, he is surprised to discover that in spite of the late hour, Ronon is still there. There's a deck of cards spread out on the bed by Sheppard's side, but they aren't playing, just talking quietly. Actually _conversing_ , although what the two most taciturn individuals in Atlantis could have to talk about, Rodney hasn't the foggiest.

He clears his throat as he steps past the screen that divides this section of the infirmary. He sees Ronon and Sheppard trade a look, and then Sheppard gives Rodney a half-smile.

"Hey, Rodney."

It's the first time Sheppard has deigned give Rodney the time of day since their conversation in the transporter, and Rodney can't help smiling back.

"Hello, Sheppard. Still not dead yet, I see."

Sheppard's half-smile turns into a cocky grin—encouraging, but as Rodney's eyes travel over Sheppard, he notices something very odd: Ronon's hand is resting on Sheppard's forearm.

Touching Sheppard. Ronon's big hand is just resting there, touching Sheppard as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

It takes a second to sink in, and then Rodney's brain stutters. Fortunately, Rodney is capable of making witty repartee at the same time his mind is otherwise occupied, and he tells Sheppard that, as a fellow survivor of anaphylactic shock, he is welcome to start attending their group meetings.

But meanwhile, Rodney's eyes are stuck right there, on Ronon's big hand clasping Sheppard's arm.

Unless Sheppard is in the act of dying, he doesn't allow people to touch him. Not constantly, like that. Not casually. Ronon's fingers are nestled into the tender crook of Sheppard's bare elbow, his thumb resting at the start of Sheppard's bicep. And there is something altogether too proprietary about Ronon's position; it is a hulking lean, almost.

Rodney can't help giving Ronon an accusatory glare. He finds Ronon is already looking at him intently, his expression a little sardonic.

Flushing, Rodney looks away. "We meet the first Tuesday of each month for coffee, and to tabulate potentially dangerous allergens."

Sheppard snorts unbecomingly. "Allergens: the unseen perils of the Pegasus Galaxy."

"Precisely."

"Sounds like a gas—I'll bring the lemonade," Sheppard says in a pathetic attempt at humor.

"Oh, ha-ha. Yes. Well," Rodney claps his hands together nervously, "I don't want to interrupt your card game. And I'm terribly busy right now in the lab, of course."

"Sure, Rodney. Thanks for stopping by." Sheppard is smiling at him—a very polite smile. The one for company. There's nothing else to it. Nothing of the spark, the zing that usually exists there in Sheppard's eyes, and though Rodney would hate for their future interactions to be complicated by any discomfort or embarrassment—well, it seems too sudden, that's all. It's too sudden, and Rodney hasn't had any chance to think about things, so it doesn't quite seem fair.

It's more than sudden, it's precipitous, really—Ronon's hand there like that, and the two of them flicking a glance at each other while the awkward silence drags on, because Rodney hasn't left yet as he said he was doing.

Leaving. He should go. He should just leave.

"Well. Goodbye," Rodney tries again.

"'Bye, McKay," Ronon says.

Sheppard just waves. Using the other arm, the one that isn't being held.

Rodney turns and says, before hurrying out, "I'm glad you're all right, John."

But he isn't sure he means it.

He isn't sure at all.

  
 _End._

**Author's Note:**

>  _Exeunt, pursued by a bear_ is a stage direction from Shakespeare's _Winter's Tale_.


End file.
